A Dream I Think Not

Much of my triple bypass surgery and the events leading up to it is very much dreamlike. Faces, names, and who did what seem to blur, covered in a cloudy cloth. I want to remember the names of those responsible for my care, but I’m afraid I will forget some. It’s not that you were you were less important, it’s because I was so surprised with the turn of the many happenings and are a blur that may never come back into focus.

As I mentioned in my previous post, I have a cough-hug-cardiac pillow. It’s the only proof I have of those who cared for me. Their small note of encouragement connected with their names is the record of those who cared for me, but alas, none of the nurses responded to my request to also leave their phone numbers. Before you say I am a dirty old man, let me say the nurses were as beautiful on the outside as they were on the inside. It was a privilege to have met them during my hospital stay.

Faces blur as they prepared me for surgery, one stands out. She manscaped me. It was the first body shave I ever had. Cheri buzzed my body front and back in preparation for my surgery. I was almost as bald as the day I was born. I was introduced to many others before I was sent upstairs to the operating room. I remember Jen from dietary because she stopped to see me just before I was discharged. Housekeeping, transport, laboratory, and techs all were pleasant and courteous, except Martin from respiratory. He was firm almost gruff, but he had to push me to breathe properly. He and John from transport were kindhearted curmudgeons.

The first nurse who signed my pillow was Baylee with her note of “Keep up the good work.” Some names I remember because I saw them written on the day board. Masks often made it nearly impossible to recognize the caring person behind the medical veil. Another signature was Heather.

The two names I mostly recall were James W. and Abbie. They were involved in a major night time project. My Foley catheter had been removed. I was voiding, but it became like a fountain that wouldn’t stop. A bladder scan said I had 2,000 ccs in my bladder. That is like a 2 liter bottle of fluid tucked in my gut. The urine was overflowing and being forced out.

My night nurse James made several attempts to reinsert a Foley catheter without success and made calls to my urologist. The doctor came in and when the doctor couldn’t replace my Foley, They did a cystoscopy in y room. A nurse named Abbie joined them to assist with the procedure. Neither James nor Abbie had ever helped with a cysto before, but they were troopers. With the catheter replaced, the problem was alleviated.